


Let Me Show You

by aka_pine_writer



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aka_pine_writer/pseuds/aka_pine_writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme request:</p>
<p>After all the crap he went through with Danarius and Tevinter, I'm pretty sure Fenris would have a rather warped vision of sex. Like it's an act in which one of the pair will inevitably suffer and withstand pain and humiliation for the other one's pleasure. However, he loves Hawke, and after all that he's done for him he's willing to endure it.<br/>Of course, when Hawke sees him on his bed like he's going to get a beating instead of a long night of manloving, will decide to prove him wrong and show him how actually sex between two people in love can easily be one of the greatest things ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Show You

**Author's Note:**

> Please pretend that the lovely romantic interlude with Fenris after ‘A Bitter Pill’ did NOT happen. They talked, vented, Hawke offered his support, and Fenris left the mansion feeling slightly better.

All things told, Fenris felt like he was going mad.

The world just…didn’t make sense anymore. Hadrianna was dead by his own hand, he often rubbed elbows with an Abomination, allowed a pirate to routinely try to guess the color of his undergarments, and was currently hacking his way through a group of dragonlings to save the mage who had managed, in more ways than one, to save him.

Hawke was a man of…interesting traits. When he had first met the man, Fenris had immediately wondered how such a naïve, innocent idiot had managed to survive as long as he had in Kirkwall doing the kind of work he did. The man had known next to nothing about slavery, knew little about Blood magic (this endeared him to Fenris), tried to solve any and all problems presented with horrible jokes or puns, and had no problem whatsoever setting bandits or slavers on fire in public (this frustrated Fenris to no end, despite the amusing consequences). That Hawke was a mage complicated matters further; Fenris, as a rule, was wary and detested mages. He…did not detest Hawke in the least. In fact, between the man’s restraint on his own magic outside of combat and his amusing trait to try to rescue any and all damsels in distress, Fenris rather liked the man, probably more than was wise or healthy.

After he had returned to Hawke after killing Hadrianna, he had been so swept up in his emotions, at his anger of being denied some semblance of peace after killing one of his tormentors, that he had almost swept Hawke along with him as well. When Hawke had grabbed his arm, Fenris had turned to him, glowing and ready to…do something, anything. But then he caught the other man’s calm eyes, and his fury ebbed, and he listened to the low baritone. “Fenris. We can work through this. Running never works; I’ll stay up with you all night if I have to, but you will vent, and I promise, you will feel better.”

And he had.

With a snarled Tevinter curse, Fenris swept aside the last of the beasts, finally seeing Hawke, who had been mobbed and buried under a pile of the creatures.

The man was struggling to rise, bleeding from many wounds. Fenris hovered over him, eyes darting over the field of battle, wary of another ambush. Seeing none, Fenris quickly replaced his sword, and knelt before Hawke. He had many wounds of varying severity, but the deep scratch on his throat coupled with the shredded thigh was cause for major concern.

“Fenris, I need to tell you-”

Blood oozed quicker from the wound on his neck when he spoke.

“Be silent,” Fenris hissed. The mage obeyed, and the well of blood slowed.

Grimly, Fenris dug out a health poultice, and by holding his palm to slow the bleeding from Hawke’s neck as he opened his mouth, slowly fed it to the other man. It wouldn’t stop all the bleeding, but it would help Hawke hold on until they could make it to Ander’s clinic.

“Foolish mage,” Fenris growled, shoving the man back to the ground as they waited for the others to find them. He did not dare move the other man without help.

“You’re supposed to stay behind the melee fighters,” the elf continued, tearing the bottom of the mage’s robes to use for bindings. “You’re supposed to let Aveline and myself take the brunt of the attacks while you and Varric stay behind us out of the way. Can you not follow such simple tactics Hawke?!”

“They were surrounding you-”

“I could have handled them,” Fenris interrupted, getting more incensed by the second. He tied the rip of cloth around Hawke’s thigh, the material slowly bleeding from blue to red. “That’s the advantage of carrying around a weapon as long as you are tall. And what did you have? A stick? You were almost out of power, and you charged in anyway. Look what you got for your troubles. If we didn’t have that Abomination back in Kirkwall-”

“Fenris, I need to tell you something-”

“-you might be in serious danger of dying,” Fenris continued, refusing to be sidetracked from his rant now. “You also knew beforehand the way these creatures work; you can never fight them one on one, they’ll always gang up on you. Of all the foolish, stupid things-”

“Fenris, let me speak-”

“NO!” Fenris roared, finally losing what little control he had over his temper. “You could have DIED Hawke! You could have DIED, for pulling such a stupid stunt when you should have known better! I don’t know what in the Fade possessed you to go charging in like an idiot-”

“Fenris,” Hawke said quietly, drawing the elf’s attention and silencing him for the moment. “Fenris,” he said again, a small smile on his face. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

The anger was swept away in that instant by that smile, and all that was left was the weariness and worry that he knew would plague him until his errant leader was fully healed. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sighed, leaning forward a little to look Hawke directly in the eyes. “You are the single most important person in my life. You’ve…you’ve helped me when you didn’t have to; you’ve listened to my rants on magic and mages, despite being a mage yourself. And…and you’ve treated me like I’m actually worth something.”

He heard the crunch of gravel that announced the arrival of their other companions, and turned his head to look-

-only to be stopped by a gentle hand that tugged him back towards the fallen mage. Fenris let out a questioning sound that was swallowed by a pair of dry, bloodied lips and held in place by now-trembling hands.

He stared at the mage as the other man pulled away, stunned.

An appreciative whistle brought him back to earth, and he turned to glare at the smirking dwarf.

“Well now,” Varric drawled. “If you two would like a little more time professing your undying love by kissing and bleeding all over each other, we can wait over the hill. I still want details though.”

Aveline had a comment as well, but it was drowned out by Fenris’ own thoughts. Even as they helped Hawke limp back to Kirkwall, even as he watched the man writhe, then fall unconscious under Anders’ care, his thoughts kept him silent.

Varric had mentioned love. He had been teasing, naturally. Love was…impossible. Hawke was a handsome man, and undoubtedly drew admiration from other, more desirable people. Even some of their other companions had expressed interest; Fenris had heard about Anders attempting to woo the mage, to no success, and he had heard Isabella himself (way too many times to count) propositioning Hawke, to which the mage either ignored or cheerfully declined. He had recently noticed Merrill’s eyes lingering on Hawke when the other mage wasn’t paying attention to her.

He tried to look over Hawke’s past actions towards him, looking for a sign or clue to his intentions. The man had always been willing to listen and to help him, even when they first met. He was always there to push Fenris to do what was needed, but at the same time seemed to understand when to back off and let the elf be. He had saved Fenris’ life countless times, had watched his back in battle, and had dropped everything to help Fenris hunt down Hadrianna. From what Fenris understood, that was the markings of a good friend. Some of the comments he made towards Fenris though…they were much more subtle flirtations than what Fenris was used to hearing, nor did he expect such verbal finesse from someone who had told the Arishok that he had expected the leader of the Qunari to be taller.

Hawke seemed to…care about him. Probably not love, but he did seem to care about the elf. Fenris mulled over this for a moment, turning the phrase over in his mind. Yes…yes, Hawke did care about him, and if Fenris was honest with himself, he cared about Hawke.

But, he asked himself, where did he go from there?

He did not like what today’s little adventure had brought up; that Hawke still did idiotic, stupid things because he let his emotions get in the way of common sense, and that Hawke was not invincible. If the circumstances had been different…

That didn’t matter, he told himself sternly. Hawke was fine, and Fenris would make sure nothing like that happened again, even if he had to tie the silly mage down to his own bed.  
Unbidden images of Hawke, nude and moaning for Fenris, held fast to his bed rose in the elf’s mind, and he growled agitatedly. 

This was ridiculous, and dangerous. He knew how sex worked; Hadrianna and Danarius had been thorough in educating him of such things. Unlike some of their other slaves, he didn’t bear any physical scars from their tender mercies, but he would certainly not forget them. He could still remember the smell of Danarius’ breath as he purred out tender, sweet threats. He still heard Hadrianna’s shrill laughter as he arched and sobbed under her magic. He still felt the pain of penetration, of electricity, of his markings lighting up and burning him while he was used for their pleasure and then discarded afterwards, left with only a mess and his humiliation.

And yet, people always talked about sex being so wonderful, and so much fun. He had heard a lifetime worth of smut from Isabella, and that was just her own personal experiences, and not from her fabled ‘friend fiction’. Aveline and Donnic seemed content with each other, and he had a decent pair of eyes and knew what other sort of business went on in the Hanged Man other than drinking or gambling. It was normally a sign of…of affection, not necessarily love, but most sane people seemed to pair up with someone they not only tolerated, but on some level liked as well. 

Fenris mused over his current problem. Hawke seemed to care for him, and he cared for Hawke most definitely. Fenris knew he wasn’t the most overly affectionate man in Kirkwall; he was too cautious, too private for that sort of thing. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder how he could show Hawke that, yes, Fenris cared about him too.

He had an answer, he just didn’t want to jump to it right away.

But it was Hawke, he reminded himself. The man had yet to actually hurt him, even when they had that drunken free-for-all fight at the Hanged Man last week. Fenris was the only member of the party Hawke didn’t try to take on. Hawke had been kind and considerate for the years Fenris had known him, and had never used his magic against him, nor for frivolities; the man understood the responsibility that came with his power, and Fenris was relieved for this. He hadn’t even asked to use the lyrium markings. Surely Fenris could put aside his own discomfort and pride for, say, just one night? 

Yes, he decided grimly as he headed for Hawke’s estate later that night. For Hawke, he would do anything to protect him, and to make him happy. If that meant submitting to pain and humiliation for the night, then better Hawke than anyone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He found the estate empty save for the servants, who invited him inside. He awkwardly talked to Bodhan and Sandal before the two dwarves decided they were needed elsewhere, and he was left alone with Orana.   
She had changed somewhat since they had found her in Hadrianna’s cave. She still seemed unsure about her new place in the Hawke household, but she no longer cowered when Fenris looked at her. She came forward even, timidly offering to take him to the Master’s private studies.

Taking the situation in his own hands, he tried to be delicate as he spoke. “Orana…thank you, but if you could tell Hawke I’m waiting in his room when he gets back, that would be all I require of you.”

She cocked her head. “That is all you need of me?”

“Ah, actually, I would also request that…that you stay away from his rooms tonight,” Fenris added, fighting the blush that was threatening to take over his face. “I…wouldn’t want to offend you.”

“Oh,” Orana nodded. “Very well then. Please let the Master know that there are leftovers in the kitchen, should either of you get hungry during the night.”

He doubted he would have an appetite after tonight’s activities, but the thought was appreciated.

Fenris paused in front of the fireplace, staring down at Hawke’s Mabari, Flower. He knelt before the attentive hound, and said sternly, “Flower. I expect you to guard the house well tonight. I’d rather if Hawke and I weren’t interrupted, so I don’t have to make a complete fool of myself twice. Understand?”

Flower huffed, wagged her stumpy tail, and then went back to sleep.

Fifteen minutes later found him sprawled on Hawke’s bed. He had carefully removed his armor, and was clothed only in his leather pants. The lyrium markings seemed to really stand out tonight, and he felt uncomfortable looking at them. So, he focused his attention elsewhere. He had poked around Hawke’s room earlier, noting the touches that were Hawke’s, while other touches were from the others of their small group. He recognized a neatly scribbled letter that was probably from Aveline. He noted some dirty doodles on the spine of one of Hawke’s books that was probably Isabella’s calling card. He even recognized the Templar symbol on a gift basket full of fruit; undoubtedly from Hawke’s brother, Carver. 

He waited, focusing on his breathing and going over his battle plan for the evening. Hawke would come in, Fenris would greet him and tell him that he cared for Hawke, that he was there for Hawke’s disposal…and then the rest was up to Hawke.

Fenris winced. He hadn’t found any of the tools they would need in Hawke’s room, but he hadn’t really been looking that hard. Perhaps he hoped that Hawke wouldn’t even accept Fenris’ offer; he might be content with their friendship the way it is, and feel no need to…indulge. Perhaps he was like Sebastian, and had taken a vow of chastity? Or maybe he wasn’t interested in sex at all? Maybe he just liked strong, emotional connections?

His thoughts fled when the door to Hawke’s room opened, and the mage filed in, grumbling under his breath about pushy Abominations and teasing pirates. He didn’t notice Fenris until he was fully in the room, and when he did notice the elf, he ended up dropping his bag of supplies.

Fenris winced at the loud sound of breaking glass, but stayed put. Apparently Orana had not caught Hawke beforehand. That was alright. No big deal, it wouldn’t hurt anything…

“Hawke.”

“Fenris,” Hawke returned cautiously. He ignored the mess he’d made on the floor, coming slowly over to the other side of the bed, watching Fenris closely. Fenris could almost see the cogs turning in Hawke’s head: What was this? Why was Fenris waiting for him? Why was the elf half naked? 

With a noticeable mental shrug, Hawke plopped onto the bed, situating himself to sit upright against the headboard, hands in his lap. He looked over at Fenris, offering a friendly smile. “Alright, I’m here. What did you want to talk about?”

Fenris almost laughed. Hawke honestly thought he was here to talk about something, despite the fact he was half naked and waiting in his bedroom on his bed. 

“I…you kissed me earlier,” Fenris fumbled. “Why?”

Hawke scratched the back of his neck, a nervous gesture that Fenris had learned meant that the mage was unsure of how to say something. That he was using it now…interesting.

“Well,” Hawke started slowly. “I thought it would be obvious.”

“It’s not,” Fenris snapped. He stopped himself from commenting further, drawing in a deep, calming breath. “Sorry,” he added. “I am…unused to such displays. I need you to explain to me why you did it.”

Hawke seemed to mull over this for a moment. “I seem to find myself completely ensnared by your charms and wish to whisk you away from all this and go sailing for adventure and profit?”

“That’s from one of Isabella’s romance books. ‘The Courtesan and the Pirate’, I believe.”

“Damn,” Hawke muttered. “Erm…look, Fenris, I’m not really good at this, so bear with me for a moment.”

Fenris was fine with that. The longer it took to get the confession he knew was in that man out of Hawke, the less time there was for…other activities.

Hawke caught Fenris’ eyes, and the elf could tell that this time, Hawke was going to try to be completely serious. He firmly told his stomach to stop fluttering, that he was a man, and could handle the release of Hawke’s ‘affection’ when it came.

“I would say that I care about you,” the mage started. “But…I think it’s more than that. I hesitate to use the word ‘love’, but every other word seems too trite, too small to use in its place.” He looked away, focusing instead on the bedding covers. “You despise mages, but you are not…you are not completely blind in your hatred. You know that magic can do great and wonderful things, even if you won’t come out and say it.”

Fenris snorted; and he probably never would come out and say it, now that Hawke had mentioned it.

Hawke continued, seeming to gain confidence as he went. “I’ve always felt something for you; I always watched you in battle more than the others. I tried my best to protect you when your back was turned. If there was something you wanted, I would have given it to you without thought. And that night after you killed Hadrianna…”

Fenris nearly flinched when Hawke reached out, but he relaxed when the other man’s hand cupped his cheek. “I nearly grabbed you and tried to have my wicked way with you,” he whispered, his breath tickling the elf’s ear that sent a bolt of heat to his stomach. 

Fenris inhaled sharply, fighting himself for control. This night was supposed to be for Hawke, he told himself, not for your selfish needs. For Hawke.

“What stopped you?” Fenris asked instead, voice a little deeper in response.

Hawke chuckled, his hand starting to stroke Fenris’ cheek softly. Fenris did not mind the touch; it was probably the nicest gesture he would receive that night, he thought grimly.

“The same thing that almost made me lose control; your passion and your anger. Seeing you and hearing you when you were so upset was…fascinating. I’m used to seeing you in such tight control of yourself that once I saw you so unwound, I thought to myself ‘I wonder if he would be like this in a more intimate setting’.”

Fenris shuddered, but Hawke continued. “I didn’t though, because I didn’t think it would be, well, appropriate,” Hawke said, somewhat sheepishly. “So I decided to wait until you were in control again, and maybe approach you when you were calmer. Then the little nasties from today happened, and you were ranting again, and you seemed to really care, and the expression on your face after I kissed you was worth it-”

“Wait,” Fenris said, frowning. “You actually planned that stunt?”

“…I refute any and all knowledge that I can actually plan something like that in advance,” Hawke said after a moment.

Fenris didn’t know whether to laugh or beat the living tar out of the mage. To do something so idiotic on a whim, during a battle was one thing. But to actually plan for something like this, to wait and bide your time…

“Idiot,” Fenris grunted.

“We’ve already decided that Fenris,” Hawke chuckled, eyes twinkling. He drew his hand away, setting it back on his lap. “So, now it’s up to you. If you don’t feel the same way, I’ll understand and never bother you again. I’d still like to be friends though; maybe go back to the way things were before if you’re not of like mind-”

“Hawke, I’ve been waiting for you in your room, in your bed, with only a pair of trousers on. I don’t know how to be more blunt with this, unless I actually have to strip completely naked and dance around you reciting stupid and meaningless love poetry.”

“Then why are you acting like a man on his way to the gallows?” Hawke returned, giving Fenris a concerned look. “Ever since I walked in here, you’ve been tense, stiff. And the look in your eye…I’ve never seen such trepidation from you before.”

Fenris shifted a little before stopping himself. It wouldn’t do to curl up to protect himself; it didn’t work that way. “I…thought perhaps since I returned your feelings, we could…indulge ourselves.”

There. He had said it, and it was in Hawke’s hands now. He silently hoped that, perhaps, the man would have mercy on him, and not injure or humiliate him too badly. They would still work together after this, Fenris knew. Unless Hawke decided to do some very horrific things to Fenris tonight, the elf would still follow him to the Black City itself, if the other man so desired. 

Hawke seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding slowly. “Alright, Fenris. If that’s what you want.”

He didn’t want it, Fenris thought, but for Hawke, he would do anything to make the man happy or content. Fenris did care about the man, and if laying on his back, helpless, and offering his body to this man wasn’t enough to show that, Fenris wouldn’t know what else to do. Hawke had helped him immensely, and if Fenris could repay him by taking whatever the mage could dish out at him, he would do it ten times over, gladly.

He bit the inside of his cheek as Hawke slid off the bed, stripping quickly as he went. Normally, he was told to look away or down, but Hawke didn’t order anything, and Fenris couldn’t resist looking at the other man nude.

He was broad for a mage, probably from a life on the run and from trying to blend in. Where most mages were wispy, pale things, Hawke was strong and carried the tan of a field worker. He had told their motley crew a few stories from his time in his last home, Lothering, where he had herded goats of all things. His form was strong, and Fenris idly wondered what the man would look like if he had been born a warrior or rouge. As it was, the elf found the mage attractive just as he was. 

Hawke turned back to the bed, and Fenris’ eyes were drawn by the natural planes and cuts of Hawke’s body to his crotch. The mage wasn’t aroused yet, but Fenris nearly winced; Hawke was bigger than Danarius. This…this part would definitely hurt. He silently thanked the fates for his foresight and for bringing along several health poultices and creams. At least the next morning he wouldn’t be limping like a used whore.

He laid back as Hawke climbed back into bed, slowly crawling over to Fenris, eyes taking in the skin that was bared. Fenris fought the urge to turn away and curl around himself, to hide, to protect himself. He sighed, took a few calming breaths, and focused his gaze on the ceiling. If he focused hard enough on counting the scratches or marks, then perhaps Hawke’s ministrations wouldn’t hurt quite as badly-

A head with unruly black hair popped up in his line of vision, a concerned look on the man’s face. “Fenris?”

“Hm?”

“Talk to me?”

Fenris focused on Hawke now, unable to keep the irritated look off his face. “What? You want me to tell you a story while we do this? Shall I recite what I’ve heard about the Black Fox while we…oh, what was that term Isabella used that one time and I thought it was so funny,” Fenris muttered. “Oh yes. ‘Churn the butter’?”

“No,” Hawke said, face leaning closer and just staring at the elf. “Tell me why you’re so tense about something that’s supposed to be fun.”

“Fun? Sex is supposed to be fun?” Fenris said, snorting. “Perhaps for one partner or the other. You’re more naïve than I thought. The…subservient partner is used and humiliated, so as to bring greater pleasure to the master partner. That’s what sex is about; it’s about domination, humiliation, and getting your rocks off while putting your partner in their place.”

Hawke stared at him, looking horrified. “That’s….that’s your experience with sex?”

Fenris nodded, starting to become confused. Didn’t Hawke know all this? Perhaps Hawke had never had sex before? Yes, that must be it, Fenris concluded. It was understandable; most virgins didn’t know many things about sex before they tried it. If there were blanks in their minds as to what happened, they would usually fill with with flights of fancy. Perhaps…it would be more tender with Hawke if he didn’t have the experience to back up the needed brutality? No, he told himself quickly, before that thought bloomed into something painful. No, it wouldn’t do to wish for something like that, for something that wasn’t true. It would be unfair to Hawke, and would make the act less enjoyable for the man.

Hawke’s eyes hardened, and Fenris instinctively braced himself. The man, while a bleeding heart at times, could get very nasty in a fight or argument if he was having a bad day. To be on the receiving end of his attentions and passion…it would be rough, Fenris knew.

However, Hawke did not attack him. “When we finally catch up to Danarius, I swear by Andraste herself I’ll make him suffer one hundred fold what you did under his hands,” he hissed. Fenris stared up at the mage, fascinated. “To make it seem that sex was…I don’t even…Maker, I haven’t been this furious in years!”

“Good,” Fenris said a little tightly. He was ready. “You’ll need that fury to do what you need to do tonight.”

“No!” Hawke growled, hands gripping Fenris’ and pinning them above his head.

Glancing at his now detained hands, Fenris noted dryly. “You seem to be off to a smashing start. Restraint is a good way to assert dominance.”

Hawke immediately let go, placing his hands on either side of the elf’s head instead. He leaned forward, brushing his lips over Fenris’ but the elf turned away, closing his eyes and offering his neck instead. He did not want tender ministrations with the harsh act; it would make it all the more harder to bear.

A low whine from Hawke caused him to turn and look up at the mage, who immediately placed a kiss on Fenris’ lips. The elf growled, but no amount of wiggling or biting could get the mage to halt his tender advances.

Fenris decided enough was enough. “Hawke, listen to me. I care about you; you are the most important person in my life, and I’ve decided to show you just how much. I refuse to hurt or humiliate you, so I will take on the subservient role instead. I am not a delicate doll; I will not break if you are a little rough with me.”

“But,” the man said, sounding…sad? “Fenris…sex is supposed to a loving act, not a brutal one.”

“Fine!” Fenris snapped, giving up. “Fine! If you truly believe that, then prove it, Hawke!”

Hawke drew back from him, a thoughtful look on his face. “Very well. A few ground rules are needed, however.”

“This ought to be good,” Fenris muttered under his breath.

“Firstly, let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable-”

“I am uncomfortable being pinned to your bed,” Fenris said; he didn’t, really, but he was curious to see what Hawke would do about it. The mage simply scooted further down Fenris’ body, until his head was near the elf’s knees; still there, but if he wanted to, Fenris could easily escape.

“Secondly,” Hawke continued. “You will spend the whole night here. I’ve noticed that when you’re unsure or rattled, you tend to run.”

“I do not-”

“Hadiranna.”

That shut Fenris up. He had been exceptionally rattled after killing the bitch, and had vanished for the rest of the day.

“You will stay the night, you will not run,” Hawke continued, nuzzling a knee gently. “If we have issues, we will work through them, talk about it, not run away like cowards and pretend it didn’t happen. I would never run out on you; I’d expect the same courtesy.”

“Very well,” Fenris said, leg twitching beneath Hawke’s touch. “And the last rule?”

“Hmm,” Hawke said, pretending to think something over very seriously. “How about no kinky sex tonight? We can get into that later.”

Fenris wasn’t sure of what to make of that statement. He had come here tonight to offer himself to Hawke for the other man’s pleasure, and then planned to move on. From the way Hawke was speaking, this would not be a onetime affair. 

On one hand, Fenris enjoyed any private time he could get with Hawke, away from the others. They often had interesting and enjoyable discussions, and Hawke had recently ‘forced’ Fenris to come over once a week to learn how to read and write. Fenris still wasn’t very good, but he could pick up the odd letter here and there.

But then again…to be under Hawke’s mercy again and again…to submit himself, willingly, every night to pain and humiliation…

He felt a twinge of grim amusement when he realized that he had already reached his decision. Truly, Hawke, he thought as he looked at the mage, you have enslaved me more surely than Danarius ever could. 

He jerked at a ticklish sensation on his foot, head looking over his body down to Hawke. The mage had scooted further down, and was currently kissing the insole of the elf’s foot. “Hawke…”

“Hm?” the mage looked up from his ministrations, eyes dancing with amusement.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to seduce you. Is it working?”

Despite the situation, Fenris felt his lips quirk upwards a little. “I admit to being…intrigued, to say the least.”

“I can work with that,” Hawke chuckled. He gently tugged at the hem of Fenris’ trousers. “Could you take this off then? It’s only fair,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

Fenris couldn’t help himself; he flicked Hawke in the forehead with with his forefinger. “Idiot,” he said, without real heat. He lifted his hips, easily tugging the leathers off, leaving himself bare. 

He felt a little nervous now, but the elf firmly stomped it down. Hawke had seen him naked several times before; until his recent acquisition of his estate, Hawke had lived in Lowtown with an estranged uncle, and their home did not really have proper bathing faculties. There had been more than one adventure that ended in a stream or lake. Ladies (if there were any present) went first, and were afforded privacy. Then the men went, and privacy was decidedly much more…lax. Honestly, he’d seen enough bare ass that if he so wished, he could give Isabella explicit detail to almost every male rump in their group.

But he’d never been naked in front of Hawke while the mage was looking at him like that. He watched silently, frozen beneath the hungry gaze of the other man, not daring to move lest he bring out the predatory instinct in the other man.

Then Hawke’s eyes caught his, and he relaxed considerably when the other spoke. “You’re stunning.”

Odd that such a simple compliment should help Fenris relax, but it was the simplicity that did it. Danarius and Hadrianna had complimented him, often in a backhanded way that also complimented their prowess over him. Hawke’s was a simple, yet truthful, statement that was selfless, and if Fenris would admit it, rather heartwarming.

He gulped a little nervously; looking over Hawke’s bulkier frame, his eyes landing on the man’s swelling arousal. “You’re…adequately proportioned.”

Hawke laughed, to Fenris’ relief, and started to kiss his foot again. Fenris squirmed at the sensation, grumbling at Hawke under his breath, but the mage ignored it, continuing to plant kisses up along the elf’s leg. Despite himself, Fenris drifted, actually enjoying the attention the other was showing him.

He never would have guessed that kisses could be so soft, that his knees could be so sensitive, and that the same man who could freeze an ogre into a solid block of ice could set his desires alight, and make Fenris burn.

His euphoric state of mind shattered as Hawke’s mouth drifted higher…towards a fairly sensitive area. “Hawke…”

The man hummed, nuzzling the elf’s thigh, tongue flicking out to taste the skin.

Fenris drew in a calming breath. “What are you going to do?”

“Suck you,” Hawke replied cheerfully.

“What?”

No no no. That wasn’t how this worked; he was here for Hawke’s pleasure, not the other way around. Didn’t Hawke realize just how demeaning this was? He shuddered under his own memories of having to perform the act; the smell, the bitter taste, and the utter self-loathing as he allowed himself to be coated with the sticky substance. He remembered his former master’s laughter, remembered wicked fingers smearing the substance into his skin to where Fenris could still smell and feel it after multiple washings.

For his own good, Fenris would stop him. Hawke would thank him for this later. 

“Hawke, this isn’t-”

Hawke had ignored Fenris, and was now licking and kissing Fenris’ cock with what looked like great enthusiasm. Fenris growled, hands gripping the bed sheet as he tried to kick out at the man. The mage simply leaned further against the elf’s body, making the kicks ineffective, and continued with his ministrations.

“Hawke,” Fenris breathed, the fight slowly starting to leave him. This…really felt marvelous, too good, and so perfect; that wagging tongue was dexterous, warm, and wet, and was drawing Fenris away from his darker thoughts, to a place where he really couldn’t think much at all. Unbidden, his hips started to move as his cock grew under the treatment. Hawke quickly laid an arm across them, and Fenris reigned in some control; it wouldn’t do to choke the man.

He held still as Hawke slowly removed his arm, and resumed his actions, slowly drawing Fenris deeper into his mouth. 

For an indefinite amount of time, all Fenris was aware of was the sensations of Hawke on him, the growing coil of…distinct pleasure building in his belly, and the noisy, wet sounds of their activity filling the otherwise silent room. Fenris did not make any loud noises; that had been a lesson too thorough for him to just set aside in one night. He did offer Hawke soft grunts and whimpers however, and that seemed to encourage the mage further. The man sucked harder and curled his tongue just so-

“Miseritus!” Fenris gasped. “Please, mercy!” Anything to stop this…this…teasing. His blood was roaring in his ears, drowning out Hawke’s question as the mage pulled away, and he didn’t care if it hurt, he wanted to reach completion NOW. Hawke could get himself off, and then Fenris would take care of himself. Simple. 

Taking matters into his own hands, Fenris grabbed Hawke by the hair on the man’s head, pulled him further up his body and kissed him fiercely. He put as much passion and feeling into that kiss as he could, making sure Hawke was completely on top of him before wrapping his legs around the waist of the other man.

As Hawke pulled away from the kiss, some of Fenris’ passion dissipated as he realized what was coming next. He had never really enjoyed sex, but this was the part that he utterly dreaded. It wasn’t just the perceived helplessness of the position, but the intimacy as well. Danarius had favored this position, claiming that he loved to watch Fenris’ eyes as the magister fucked him, made him cry out, and made him bleed. If the situation had been different, Danarius often purred to him, Fenris would no longer be his bodyguard; he would be chained in the man’s bedroom for the rest of his existence.

But this was Hawke, he reminded himself as the other man looked down at him, eyes soft. He cared about Hawke, and he owed Hawke this much at least. If he could make the man happy at the expense of his own comfort, so be it.

Besides, a traitorous thought snipped, it had been pretty good so far. Maybe somehow it would last…?

He didn’t dare hope. No matter how sweet or gentle Hawke was now, the coming act was naturally a brutal one that no amount of sweet-talking or tickling or kissing could ease. Add to the fact that Hawke was larger than Danarius, and Fenris knew he was in for a rough night.

Fenris was drawn from his thoughts by Hawke clucking his tongue. The elf looked up at the other man, frowning. “What? Would you rather I roll over so we can do it like dogs?”

“No,” Hawke said quickly. Oddly enough, this pleased Fenris. He…supposed it was because he wanted to see Hawke’s face while the man took his pleasure. It would be rewarding enough for the evening, he mused.

“No,” Hawke said. “I just…you’re tensing up again. Fenris, have you never really ever enjoyed sex before?” The last bit is said desperately, the man obviously asking the elf to tell him it wasn’t true.

Fenris shifted a little, arms wrapping around Hawke’s neck. This, for some reason, gave him comfort. Again, odd, since he wasn’t really the cuddly type. “…no?”

The warrior’s eyes widened as the mage let lose a torrent of filthy words and phrases, some of which were in the Tevinter language that Fenris knew the man had picked up from him during battles; most of the curses were aimed at Danarius, and some were aimed at the Maker and Andraste for allowing such a travesty to happen.

“You greet Sebastian with that mouth of yours?”

“Oh, he knows about this mouth of mine and has dragged me to more Chantry seminars than you can shake a stick at,” Hawke groused. “And don’t change the subject.”

“Apologies,” Fenris replied, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll watch my language around you from now on though. Knowing your luck, you’d say them to some Tevinter noblewoman, and then I’d have to duel her bodyguard to protect your honor.”

“Glorious. I’ll give you a token of my favor then, so everyone will know who my knight in shining armor is,” Hawke chuckled. He leaned forward, capturing Fenris’ lips with his own, again being extremely gentle. Fenris clung to him tightly, his nerves starting to get the better of him as he felt Hawke’s cock brush against his skin. He pulled away from the kiss, not looking Hawke in the eye as he shifted and moved along the man’s body. The mage did not move, or give any indication that he was about to do what needed to be done to complete the act. Perhaps Hawke needed a more blatant…come hither?

“Fenris, please stop that. We’re doing something a little different.”

Fenris stilled immediately, glancing at Hawke’s face. He was curious now, despite his prior trepidation. Hawke gently disentangled himself from Fenris, setting the elf on the bed and looking over him for a moment, obvious enjoyment in his eyes at the way the other was spread beneath him.

The mage kissed him, bringing his body flush against the elf’s…and moved in such a way that had Fenris gasping. Their cocks rubbed slowly against each other, the saliva from Hawke’s earlier ministrations aiding in the rubbing. It was…odd. It was intimate but…

Stop it, Fenris told himself, kissing Hawke back eagerly. This was much better than what he could have ever hoped for. Pleasure for both of them, no jabbing remarks, and Hawke above him, all around him, devouring him in the most tender and sweet way possible.

He didn’t like being treated like a porcelain doll, but given the circumstances, and who he was with, Fenris would allow Hawke this, just this once.

“Fenris,” Hawke rumbled, nuzzling the elf’s face when the kiss broke. “Fenris.”

No one should have the kind of power to make a man shudder like that just by saying his name, Fenris thought as he did just that, and pulled Hawke tighter against him. The mage allowed him to do this, turning his head to the side and licking the shell of Fenris’ ear, never breaking rhythm.

Fenris was unsure how long they were like that, sweating and writhing against each other, Hawke kissing and licking his ears but it didn’t matter. Kirkwall could have been burning around them, and Fenris would not care, so long as this did not end.

He was getting close though, he realized with some shock. And another person, Hawke, was the reason he was this close to edge, not from his own hand. It was frightening, in some respects, but he wouldn’t trade this for anything. Hawke was obviously enjoying himself, and Fenris was enjoying this too. A true win-win situation, he thought hazily. He wanted release, but he didn’t want this sweet torture to end because when it did, it might never happen again. He was being wound tighter and tighter-

“Fenris,” that delicious voice whispered, the breath tickling his over-sensitized ear. “Come for me, love.”

Fenris gasped, yanked Hawke closer, and bit the other’s shoulder hard as he did not come, but completely shattered.

_-a flicker of red hair, trailing behind- “Leto, we-”-ashes, burnt food that meant he would go hungry again-pain from a battle axe embedded in his shoulder, his screaming echoing-the smell of dirt and damp as he curled up in his corner for the night-the pain of the lyrium being branded into his skin, his voice giving out from all the screaming and crying-  
-and then, nothing. Vanished into the depths of his mind, like the ghosts of nightmares past._

Fenris came back to himself slowly, desperately trying to make sense of what he had seen, and in the same instant, forgotten once more. The images, sounds, and feelings slipped quickly through his grasp like sand, vanishing on the wind and leaving him both shaken and frustrated.

The sound of the door swinging open shook Fenris from his thoughts; he was up and at the door with his sword in a split moment, blade ready and willing to cleave the intruder in two.  
Hawke’s eyes stared at the tip of the sword for a moment before lowering and taking in all of Fenris, a feral smile lighting up his face. “If it were just me and you going on our escapades, I wouldn’t mind seeing this more often.”

Fenris glanced down at himself, realized he was still nude, and huffed. He set the sword aside, glancing at what Hawke had brought with him. A tray of various fruits and a loaf of bread were held up by the mage, almost as if in humble offering.

“Food,” the mage offered. “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

Fenris considered, and then noted something. “You…cleaned us up?” Indeed, he was not sticky, and when he looked closer at Hawke, the man was clean as well.

Hawke shrugged, coming into the room and setting the tray of food down in front of the fireplace. He motioned for Fenris to sit, and tended to the dying fire. “You feel asleep after the, ah, festivities,” he chuckled. “I thought it would be better for me to clean up than for you to wake up stuck to me.”

Fenris shuddered at the thought of such a wakeup call. “I thank you for that consideration.” He gingerly picked up a pear, finding that for the first time immediately after carnal activities, he had an appetite. He eagerly devoured the fruit, and grabbed another. Hawke joined him, and the next several minutes were spent in companionable silence, save for the crunch of fruit, and the soft tearing of bread.  
Fenris considered his situation for a few minutes, mulling over every possibility and outcome for any given action.

His first instinct was, as Hawke had pointed out earlier, to run. Not only had he exposed himself to Hawke, giving another man an advantage that could be later exploited, he had also had a tantalizing glimpse of his forgotten memories. The sex had been planned, but the return and subsequent loss of his memories had not been part of the bargain. It left him feeling rattled and unsure, despite his outwardly calm appearance.

But he had given Hawke his word that he wouldn’t run away, and so he was stuck. Running was out then, despite his feelings. So that left either ignoring what had cropped up, or doing something about it.  
“I remembered some of my life before Danarius.”

Hawke looked at him sharply, but did not speak, opting to wait it out. Fenris turned to gaze at the fire, the warmth feeling delicious on his still-naked skin.  
“I remembered…flashes, scents, sounds…but then it all slipped away from me, and I was left in the dark once more.”

“What triggered it?” Hawke asked softly.

Fenris turned from the fire, offering the mage an apologetic look. “I…I do not know. I suspect what we just shared, but I can’t be sure.”

The mage seemed to consider this for a moment before looking into the fire, face becoming shadowed. “And what do you wish to do about it?” he asked, voice low, and oddly, deadened.   
Why was he acting this way? Fenris wondered, frowning. Hawke had gone from attentive new lover to…to…

Fenris’ eyes widened as realization hit him. Hawke thought he was going to run, didn’t he? He thought Fenris a coward! The nerve of that man, he thought angrily. Fenris was not a coward, he would face this head on, and show Hawke that despite his oddities, he was a man to be trusted. He just…needed time to clear his head.

“I…am unsure,” he answered honestly. “I find myself at an impasse; on one hand, I don’t want to experience such torment as to have my memories before me, only to have them snatched away again the next second. But I also don’t want to…” he trailed off, unsure of how to put what he felt into words that would actually make sense. “What I mean is, I enjoyed what we did,” he said. “I enjoy what we have. I don’t want to give that up, or you.  
“Could…could you give me some time to think this over? I would still happily go with you when you call for me, I just…I need a little time to consider the state of things.”

“Very well,” the mage replied softly. “Just answer me this Fenris; did you enjoy tonight?”

The elf gazed as his lover, a small smile lighting up his features. “It was singularly the best night of my life. I never would have thought…such things could be shared between two men. Thank you, Hawke.”

This seemed to satisfy the mage, because soon the man’s easy smile was back, along with that tender look in his eye whenever he looked at the elf. They quickly wiped out the rest of the food on the tray, and after some coaxing from Hawke, they both crawled back into bed. Fenris wasn’t keen on the idea of ‘snuggling’, but when Hawke tugged him against his larger frame anyway, the elf’s resistance fled, along with any desire to try to shove the mage away. This was…nice. And warm, he thought idly before letting sleep claim him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took him two weeks and finally slaying Danarius (oh Maker, that had felt so good) for Fenris to return to Hawke, determined and a little more sure of himself.

Granted, he had spent several nights in his mansion, alone, sipping the Aggregio while he brooded over his situation. It was on this particular night that found him at Hawke’s door, a basket of wine in hand, and with a whipped up courage that he had talked himself into.

Hawke had taken him in without much fuss, save for insisting on feeding the elf while they indulged with the wine in Hawke’s room before a merrily burning fire. Hawke was truly happy for him, Fenris knew. The man had followed him to meet his sister- a sister who called Fenris by his name, a sister who betrayed him to become a magister. A sister…a sister who had nearly died by his own hand. Hawke’s quiet intervention had stopped him from murdering the whimpering woman, and she had given Fenris a tidbit of information that had thrown everything into chaos again; he had wanted, had fought for the markings. 

He had wanted this.

He had spent enough nights in his mansion brooding over developments; it was time to come out and actually act the free man that he so desperately claimed to be. His chains wouldn’t come off by themselves, just by running from his previous station. He would shatter them himself.

Fenris stared at Hawke as the mage talked enthusiastically about his latest meeting with the Arishok; apparently he had convinced the towering Qunari leader to try his hand at Wicked Grace, sans the actual gambling part. His eyes flashed with happy excitement, his lips forming shapes and reminding the elf how those very lips had felt on his cock. His frame was relaxed, hair slightly tousled as always, and he was barefoot. Fenris remembered that night they shared weeks ago, the feeling of Hawke’s skin on his, of the tenderness in the man’s words and manner, the exquisite ecstasy that he had shown could be shared between two people who cared about each other. Sitting there in front of the fire, truly happy, the mage was irresistible to Fenris, despite the possible consequences.

“I desire you,” he whispered.

Hawke’s mouth shut abruptly, opened again, and then shut again. “I…did you just say-”

Amused, Fenris crawled closer, never breaking eye contact with the still shocked mage. He stopped before Hawke, grasping the other man to him. Hawke sighed, turning and offering his neck to the elf, which Fenris immediately took advantage of, trailing kisses and light bites until he reached Hawke’s ear “Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough,” he growled, biting roughly on the lobe. Hawke groaned, but otherwise did not make a move to get away or turn the tables. Good.

Fenris slid a hand down Hawke’s torso, belly, and when he reached the mage’s crotch, grabbed a hold of the man’s already growing arousal and squeezed. “Let me be clearer then; I want you, now. On this rug, on your back, and with your throat so raw from screaming you can only whisper my name.”

Hawke gulped, and Fenris smelled an easy victory. With a growl, he pounced.

“Fenris…”

Encouraged by the tremor in Hawke’s voice, Fenris continued to lick and kiss at the skin of the mage’s bared throat. His hips ground against Hawke’s of their own violation, drawing a pleased rumbling sound from the elf’s throat.

“Fenris-”

The elf easily shoved the larger man to the floor, immediately crawling over him and pinning the writhing mage firmly. Throughout this, he did not break contact with Hawke’s skin; his tongue eagerly lapped at the bittersweetness that he was quickly coming to recognize as Hawke, as his lover, as utterly his.

“Fenris, please-”

His love wanted more obviously, so Fenris would give him more, the elf thought smugly. He nipped at Hawke’s neck in warning before drawing back and setting about divesting his mage of clothing. Hawke was whispering something, but Fenris paid him no mind; yes, he knew what he was doing was driving the poor man mad, but the elf needed to focus on his task.

“Fenris, would you just-”

Hawke was cut off by the sound of ripping cloth as Fenris grew too impatient and tore the man’s pants from his form. He didn’t even bother to pretend to feel sorry; he just glanced at the shredded clothing in his hands, shrugged, and tossed them over his shoulder before latching back onto Hawke.

The man was fully aroused, and Fenris took silent glee in the fact that this mage, this Champion of an entire city was currently pinned beneath him, naked, moaning his name, aroused because of his actions and that he was thoroughly his. 

Freedom, he mused, was certainly a heady thing once one acquired it.

“Damn it Fenris, WAIT!”

The elf immediately froze, his lips resting on the mage’s belly while his hand firmly gripped Hawke’s cock.

Hawke gingerly wiggled out from under Fenris, offering him an apologetic look that looked ridiculous given that he was flushed and extremely tousled. “As much as I want you to ravish me as you seem intent on doing, we’re going to need a little help. Unless you want me to bleed, in which case we can-”

“No!” Fenris said sharply. He would rather eat his own sword than hurt this man intentionally. “I would never wish to hurt you. I just…I don’t know exactly where I was going with that,” he admitted. 

Hawke offered him a smile as he got up and turned away, rummaging around in a chest near the bed for…something. “I don’t mind you pouncing me, love. Rather exciting. But Fenris, a little pain wouldn’t be a bad thing, it’s just I’d rather not hurt there tomorrow morning. Maybe later on though, we’ll borrow some equipment from Isabella and then you can go to town on me. Oh, and maybe Anders will have some tools as well we could-”

“I have no problem borrowing from Isabella, provided we sanitize it first,” Fenris intoned. “But I will not touch anything that Abomination has used, no matter how many times you clean it Hawke.”

Hawke turned around with a pout, but a small glass bottle drew Fenris’ attention. “What is that?”

“Slick,” Hawke said promptly, padding back over to the elf and kneeling on the floor next to him. “Unlike the lovely ladies, we don’t get wet down there,” Hawke said in a tone that made him seem more scholarly than he actually was. “They have natural lubrication to aide in the process, where as we do not. Thus, we need a little help,” he finished with a small flourish, handing the bottle to the elf and reclining back into position, spreading his legs and waiting.

Fenris stared at the bottle in his hands, then at Hawke, and then back at the bottle.

“…Danarius never used lube, did he?”

Wordlessly, Fenris shook his head, still staring at the small container while his mage let out another vile string of curses that would have made Isabella blush…maybe, he amended as he glanced down at the angry man.

Danarius had not, in fact, ever used lubrication to aide either of them. He had never even mentioned it; he had always just grabbed the elf whenever he felt like it, taunted or teased him mercilessly, and then would either kick him out or throw him on the bed or any close piece of furniture, and fuck him senseless. Danarius always had his fun, and Fenris always bled, and limped the next morning.

Well. He wouldn’t allow that to happen to Hawke, Fenris told himself firmly as he opened the jar and scooped out a large amount, glancing at Hawke’s face as he did so.

He didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed that the man was still raging against Danarius, ignoring Fenris for the most part as he let more verbal filth spill from his mouth.

Fenris used Hawke’s distraction to his advantage, considering the spread mage before him. Though he was a man who relied on magic in battle, he was still a strong, healthy fellow. While Fenris knew for a fact that he could probably severely injure him if Hawke managed to enrage him, the elf knew that otherwise, Hawke was strong. No matter how…amorous Fenris was, Hawke was unlikely to break or be injured, so long as Fenris planned this out properly.

He could do this. Just apply the use of common sense, and dive in without any fear-

Hawke let out an indignant squawk as Fenris grasped his legs, pushed them up from the floor, and inserted a finger without preamble. Hawke’s squawk turned into a soft groan, making Fenris freeze once more.   
“’M fine,” the mage grunted after a moment of stillness. “You just caught me by surprise. Twist gently, stretch slowly, and we should be good.”

Under Hawke’s patient guidance, Fenris was able to open the mage, pausing occasionally to draw out more of the slick before starting again. It was a bit odd and made the elf a little uncomfortable; he had no problems pinning the mage beneath him, but to actually have his digits inside this man (and NOT glowing) seemed…intimate, private, and in a way, almost demeaning to Hawke. This man who conversed easily with both Viscount and Arishok alike was impaled on his fingers, writhing beneath him on the floor of his own house, quietly panting and whimpering to the rhythm of Fenris’ fingers. It seemed wrong, but he still…liked seeing Hawke like this. Undone just for him, and because of his ministrations.

Fenris firmly told himself to stop over-thinking the act and just continue doing whatever it took to please the other man.

Hawke cried out to him softly when Fenris brushed something. The elf paused, considered, and then slowly pressed against the same spot.

“Like this?”

“Maker’s breath yes,” Hawke hissed, hips thrusting slightly towards Fenris. “Please, Fenris, more-”

Cautiously, another finger was added, and Fenris marveled as he watched Hawke dance beneath him. Sweat made his dusky skin glow, his muscles rippled with each frantic motion, his eyes clenched close against the sensations, and his cock was already leaking fluid.

“You’re breath taking,” he whispered some moments later, stilling his fingers to let the mage catch his breath.

“And you’re still dressed,” the other panted. “Fenris, I need you. Now. Please.”

“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” Fenris asked quietly as he efficiently stripped his clothing off.

He frowned when Hawke didn’t answer, turning and seeing the man’s eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “Hawke.”

“What? Didn’t catch that, sorry. Did you say something?”

Fenris sighed as he knelt by his lover, taking a moment to enjoy the view. “You will tell me if I hurt you. To hold back on telling me,” he added, with a cunning look at the man’s askance face, “Would hurt me, as I have no wish to bring harm to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes. You’re a big softie, and Isabella owes me one sovereign.”

“And Varric wonders what I see in you,” Fenris grumbled, pulling the mage roughly against him, humming happily at the feel of Hawke’s skin on his.

“Obviously it’s my charming personality and smoldering looks,” Hawke laughed.

“Obviously.”

He ignored the rest of Hawke’s teasing remarks, considering their plight thoughtfully.

His cock was screaming at him to just jump the man and have his wicked way with the mage, but the rest of him wanted to draw this out, make sure Hawke enjoyed it, and begged for more.

“Fenris, I’m not getting any younger here.”

“Maker preserve you for your patience, Hawke,” Fenris droned in a vague attempt at Sebastian’s brogue. 

“Oh, goody. Does this mean we’ll get to role play?” Hawke, bless him, seemed enthusiastic at the prospect. “You can be Sebastian, and…hm, I guess I could play a lost wayward soul in need of saving? Brother Vael,” his voice took on a deep, faux-pious tone. “I’m in need of saving. Where should I get on my knees to receive your ‘blessing’?”

Fenris couldn’t help himself and laughed softly. “Let’s save that for some other time, perhaps. Right now I want to be me, and I want you to be yourself, despite how annoying and frustrating you can be.”  
Hawke didn’t answer save for a true, beautiful smile that made Fenris forget to breath for a second.

“Sof-tie,” Hawke sang quietly.

“Way to ruin a moment Hawke.”

“I do my best.”

“Now shut up and let me have my wicked way with you.”

“Yes sir!”

Fenris watched Hawke wiggle about for a moment, making himself comfortable. Once the mage had settled, the elf scooted closer, gripping his erection in one hand while stroking Hawke’s thigh gently with the other. Keeping his eyes locked on Hawke’s, Fenris slowly entered him.

The feeling of being harshly taken by someone was something Fenris knew all too well, and as such, was determined that Hawke would never find out for himself what that felt like. That was all that was keeping him from mindlessly shoving himself fully into that tight warmth; Hawke’s groaning and soft pleading weren’t helping matters.

Finally, he was fully inside the mage, and he settled over the man, staring intently at Hawke’s face. Beautiful, he mused silently. His face was flushed, he was drenched in sweat that he, Fenris, had put there, and he was panting softly.

Fenris nuzzled Hawke’s cheek gently, mostly for reassurance. The mage’s eyes peeked up at him, and with a soft sigh, Hawke relaxed a little beneath him. With that, Fenris began to move, quickly moving on to a fast, sharp pace.

He wanted to make it slow and sweet, but his earlier agitation at the man and his amorous feelings had swung back full force, and had turned a gentle love-making session into what amounted as a claiming.  
Not that Hawke was complaining, Fenris mused. Perhaps it would be sweet and gentle when Hawke took control. 

How long they were there in front of the fire, Fenris did not know, nor care. The only marked passage of time for either of them was the rhythmic movements of Fenris’ hips, and the slow spiral toward their release. The closer he got, the more ferocious Fenris became. His thrusts became sharper, harder, more demanding. He hissed curses, both in the common tongue and in Arcanum at the mage who was writhing so beautifully beneath him. He nipped, licked, and bit at any skin before him, leaving teeth marks and bruises all over Hawke’s form. When he finally came, he came with a roar, silencing himself quickly by sinking his teeth into the same shoulder he had abused weeks previous. He tasted the coppery tang of blood on his tongue as he heard Hawke shout out his own release, and he felt the cool slickness from Hawke coat his groin and belly.

It took several long moments for Fenris to come back to himself, and when he did, he felt his thoughts slowly inch in, jumbled before starting to form coherently.

That was…good, he thought. Being in charge was…good. Being in charge of Hawke was very good. Being with Hawke period was very good.

But did Hawke enjoy it?

He glanced down sharply at the other man, taking in the mark, bruises, and the trickle of blood from the mage’s shoulder. Fenris’ horrified eyes sought out Hawke’s, and he froze.

The other was beaming up at him, lips full and red from all the kissing, and his eyes were sated and full of what Fenris could only hope was contentment.

“So, was it good for you like it was for me, sailor?”

Fenris blinked and then snorted. “You’ve been around Isabella too much.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Fenris glanced at Hawke sharply. That was probably the most serious Hawke had been all evening. Slowly, he nodded. “It was…wonderful. Although,” he added, somewhat nervously. “I apologize for…” he motioned wordlessly at the marks on his body. “I…I didn’t, I mean-”

“Do you hear me complaining?” Hawke asked gently. Fenris slowly shook his head.

“Then I had no problem with your tender attentions,” Hawke chuckled, sitting up with a ginger grimace. “Now if you don’t mind, let’s move to the bed before the floor kills my back.”

“I do apologize,” Fenris muttered after they had climbed into bed and under the covers. Hawke had pulled Fenris against his larger form, and Fenris found he was not averse to the cuddling. “I wanted to show you that I desired you, but it…I got out of hand. I’m sorry.”

“It happens,” Hawke murmured, gently running a hand over the elf’s hip. “And I really enjoyed it. You can be sweet, slow, and gentle next time, okay?”

“We’ll see,” Fenris grunted. “Maybe I’ll let you be in charge next time.”

“Oh, you’ll ‘let’ me, will you?”

Fenris smiled softly, and it colored his voice. “If you don’t tell Isabella I’m a softie, of course.”

“Oh, you do drive a hard bargain.”

“Only when it involves naughty apostates. I seem to be rather fond of a particular one.”

“Should I go have a stern talking-to with Anders? I know that you are your own man Fenris, but there’s nothing that says I can’t scare off competition.”

“Idiot,” Fenris muttered, shifting further back against the body behind him. He fell asleep soon after, his dreams full of strength and a familiar warm body that smelled of Hawke and freedom.

It was a dream he felt that was certainly much closer than he had previously realized.


End file.
